


The Silent McKay

by Daryl_Alenko



Series: Trope Challenge [7]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M, Mild Cursing, Ronon Can Be Vocal, Sheppard Is a Good Bro, Trope Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-18 04:55:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28612422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daryl_Alenko/pseuds/Daryl_Alenko
Summary: There are many rules on Atlantis that are unspoken and never written down. Do NOT hug the Colonel. It only confuses and upsets him. Do NOT try and take food away from Ronon. Any loss of limb for doing so is your own fault. Teyla may be small, but there is not an ass she cannot kick. With or without her rods. McKay will always complain loud and long about any injury he sustains.Who would ever think that last rule could go completely out the window!?
Relationships: Ronon Dex/Rodney McKay
Series: Trope Challenge [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2086479
Comments: 4
Kudos: 41





	The Silent McKay

**Author's Note:**

> Trope 7 - Hidden/Unnoticed Injury

* * *

The klaxon of the 'gate announcing an incoming Wormhole is enough to draw the attention of everyone in the command center. The IFF his already been tagged and the Iris cleared so that the returning AR-1 can enter Atlantis. This is all standard, basic procedure. Even the sound of gunfire ricocheting around the room is, sadly, also pretty standard. 

Chuck, a 'gateroom technician, is standing on tenterhooks as he watches the team come rushing in. He's surprised to see Colonel Sheppard struggling to half drag Specialist Dex into the 'gateroom as Teyla, and McKay of all people, lay down cover fire. The moment the team is clear, Chuck disengages the 'gate and calls for a medical team. Sheppard is still struggling to keep the larger man standing even as Teyla rushes over to help. The tech is a little surprised to see McKay quickly pulling on a jacket over his tac vest before moving to join the rest of his team.

* * *

McKay is having trouble breathing, but paying it no mind. He's too hyper-focused on what his teammates are going through. Teyla is currently sitting on an exam bed, an oxygen mask hooked up as she struggles to breathe through the residue of smoke in her lungs. The Colonel is leaning against Ronon's bed, frowning as he watches the nurses work over his friend. The Specialist is currently hooked up to an IV as they flush drugs from his system. 

McKay has been watching over them all for about thirty minutes, keeping out of everyone's way. He has been asked if he's okay five different times and replied with nothing more than a grunt. If anyone found his behavior unusual, nothing has been said. But then, he's not exactly giving off a very communicative aura or anything at the moment. 

Eventually, the Colonel comes walking over and in one of his not-so-rare displays of friendship lately, he smacks him lightly on the back, between his shoulder-blades. McKay manages to remain stoic as the man stands next to him. 

"Well, all in all, I have to say that went better than I expected it to." And that ... that is all kinds of the WRONG thing to say at the moment. Rodney turns on him, lips peeled back in a snarl, intelligent eyes sparking with anger and thoughts of revenge.

"Better than expected? Honestly, -Colonel-? Sometimes, you really make me question your intelligence. This was a fucking disaster! Teyla nearly choked to death and Ronon managed to get poisoned. This was a shit show, soldier." The words are scathing, biting, and almost hysterical. The first two are just par for the course for McKay. But the last one? That's kinda new. The Colonel is far too shocked to actually say anything. Instead, he just watches in bewilderment as McKay turns and walks stiffly from the room. 

"Wha --?" The Colonel practically pouts before heading over to check on Teyla. At least she wouldn't snap at him!

* * *

For an hour and a half, McKay had paced through the labs, trying to find something to take his mind off of what is happening in the infirmary. Every time they turn around, it seems a member of the team is laid up in there and he thinks he might finally be losing his mind. Ancients know it's taken long enough for that to happen! He should've been a raving lunatic their first year in Atlantis. And yeah, okay, there were a couple of occasions where he basically was, but that is beside the point. After kicking a table and nearly bursting into tears, he had decided that enough was enough and he would be better served in his quarters. 

So, that's where he finds himself. Slowly dragging himself into his room, thinking the door closed as he heads straight for his bed. He plops onto the foot of it, pain shooting across his shoulders and down his back. He is still fully tac'ed up and that is just stupid. He knows that he should've changed hours ago. Hell, he -knows- that he should've already gone back to infirmary but he just couldn't bring himself to do that. To see his two teammates as they currently are. Though, now that he's had time to calm down, he knows that he owes John an apology. 

He is -not- good at those, though he's gotten better since coming to Atlantis. Who knew all it took to humanize him a bit ... was -leaving- human civilization and moving to another galaxy. If a deity does exist, it has one hell of a sense of humor.

With a heavy sigh, he carefully unzips his jacket and begins to peel it off. Every other movement draws a hiss of pain from him, making the job a lot harder than it should be. In fact, by the time he has the jacket halfway off, just one sleeve still on, there's sweat high on his forehead and he's gone a little pale. The salted copper scent of blood hangs thick in the air as well. 

He feels as if he's going to hyperventilate as he struggles to breathe, eyes having snapped closed to fight a sudden sense of vertigo despite being seated. Just as he begins to try and get the last sleeve off, he hears a loud thud at his door.

"Rodney!" A voice he is most accustomed to shouts out and he winces. He had not, in any way, expected the man to show up so soon. He was quite sure he had enough time to get undressed, clean up, and take something for pain before he'd have to do this. He is -not- a people person, no matter how close he might be with the person. This .. is not going to be fun! There's another thud and he launches himself off the bed, scrambling toward the door. It's never good to keep him waiting.

"Yeah yeah, I'm coming! Cool it already!" Of course, despite who's at the door, he's not about to be -nice- about it. He's hurting, in so many places, struggling to just remain awake. Nice is -not- on the list, people! He gets to the door and reaches out to the panel of lights, waving his hand over it. Technically, he could have thought the door open, but he's verging on the edge of brain dead, he's so tired. The thought probably wouldn't have registered. He's not Sheppard, after all. 

The door swings open and McKay doesn't have a chance to react before he's swept into a pair of powerful arms and desperately squeezed within an inch of his life. Unfortunately, it doesn't cause the expected reaction. He doesn't sink happily into those arms or cling to the man. Instead, a sob pops out of him, tears springing to his eyes in such a thick torrent that everything becomes a burning blur. 

"Rodney." The voice is thick, hard, rough. Doesn't change in the least from it's usual timbre, but the scientist can hear a wellspring of emotion in it. Always can.

"F-fine. I'm fine. Just --"

"Don't lie to me." Before he can respond, he finds himself being hauled into the room and deposited on the foot of the bed again. Large, surprisingly gentle and careful hands are on him immediately. Removing the jacket the rest of the way. It draws another soft sob from him, causes the man that is now kneeling in front of him to snarl in frustration.

"Where?" With a sigh, McKay blinks rapidly several times to dislodge the tears, and begins to remove the tac vest. He goes so far as to clench his jaws and hiss to keep from crying again. Eventually, the vest is on the bed next to him and the scent of blood is overpowering. He gags in the back of his throat and turns, so that he's sitting in profile. 

A gash and several holes are visible on the shirt between his shoulder blades, and the usually rough hands don't bother to try and pull the shirt up and off. Instead, the sound of ripping material comes quick, the remnants of the shirt falling to the floor. He's got a knife would surrounded by several bruises, blood tacky on his skin. 

"What the hell happened? Why are you here? You should've been in a damn bed, Rodney." It is by far not the longest sentence he's heard the man utter, but it still surprises him that he's willing to talk to him. Of course, it still surprises him that he's willing to do a -lot- of things. Put up with him. Share kisses and hugs with him. Curl up around him in bed. He should be nothing more than an annoyance to him, but he's not. 

Again ... who knew it would take coming to another Galaxy for his life to finally get good??

"I .. I didn't want to make a big deal out of it." Okay .. he's not stupid. He -knows- that those are not the kind of words to -ever- leave his mouth, but he means them. He didn't ... -couldn't- make a big deal out of it. He had been too terrified. Couldn't be in a bed and forced to see his team as they were. Everyone has a breaking point and he's close to reaching his again.

"... you couldn't see me like that." The words are feather soft, a tone only -ever- used when they are alone. And as per usual, the bastard sees too much. Hits the nail on the head. Rodney lets out another sob, this one purely emotional, and sinks forward when arms slide ever so carefully around his waist to hold him close.

"No, damn it, I couldn't! Not knowing that it's my fault you were in there! You could've died because of me!"

"Rodney. Don't be stupid. They were the ones that drugged me. Not you." Rodney gives out a hysterical laugh, trembling in his arms.

"Ronon ... they were trying to drug me. If I hadn't asked you to try the drink, you wouldn't have nearly died." The younger man sighs and crawls up, onto the bed so that he can inspect Rodney's injury.

"Yeah .. and we've had this conversation, McKay. Better me than you. I'm not losing someone I love again. If it means making sure a drink isn't citrus and getting drugged in your place, fine. But I didn't die. We're both okay. So you're going to get this looked at." Rodney sighs, tries to calculate the likelihood of talking Ronon out of this, but he was never very good with Absolute Zero. 

"Fine. Let's go, mar'i'tash." The Satedan word earns him a heated growl from the other man, followed by a very pissed off scowl.

"Yeah, not happening until your healed. Now go." It's an order, and Rodney rarely reacts as well to those as he should. But this time, he complies. Because Ronon is truly worried and he doesn't want to cause his lover any more trouble than he already has. 

Besides ... now that he knows Ronon's going to be okay ... he really -does- need to get this looked at. He HATES stitches.

**Fin**


End file.
